


Blue Mold

by AiSeeHope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Competition, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Hero Worship, Ice Skating, Idiots in Love, Jealous Park Jimin (BTS), Jealousy, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope is Beautiful, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope is a Sweetheart, Love at First Sight, Lust, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Obsession, POV Park Jimin (BTS), Park Jimin (BTS) Is Whipped, Park Jimin (BTS) Needs a Hug, Park Jimin (BTS) is So Done, Rivalry, Romantic Angst, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Sports, Unrequited Love, very very loosely based off Yuri on Ice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-16 03:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiSeeHope/pseuds/AiSeeHope
Summary: Jimin’s eyes refuse to leave Hoseok, as he nears the end of his programme. Hoseok, who shines red with his red hair and red outfit. Like a scorching flame that melts the ice beneath his agile feet.The one where they're figure skaters just trying to figure things out





	Blue Mold

**Author's Note:**

> The Yuri on Ice JiHope fic no one asked for but I NEEDED IT!!!  
Enjoy <3
> 
> [moodboard](https://twitter.com/AiSeeHope/status/1246262422693752833)

**Figure Skating**

_Noun_

The competitive sport where people skate on ice, executing jumps and flips and accumulating points.

He is fourteen years old when he sees Hoseok for the first time. 

It’s close to midnight. Jimin should be in bed, but there’s a light flooding into his bedroom and a soft din of cheers. No doubt his father, still watching sports on TV. He closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep.

Looking back, it felt a lot like fate, that heavy pull on his legs that dragged him towards the living room. The way his eyes were painfully groggy, but still persevering. His whole body on total alert, as he pushes forward,dragging his blanket along the floor as he followed the light.

The applause is thundering. Jimin winces and groans, pressing his hands against his ears to drown it out. He heaves a sigh of relief as he finally reaches his destination.

Jimin’s heart leaps out of his chest at what he sees on the screen.

It’s a boy, dancing on ice.

Jimin watches in awe. The boy seems to be around his age, with a petite body that moves in tandem to the classical violin music in the background. The television screen is a portrait in white, and the boy stands out starkly. His skin is tanned like burning honey, and his outfit is a dark blue, that compliments the ice. He twists and turns, the camera panning to keep him in the shot. It’s insane how someone so young can move the way he does. Jimin drops his blanket, hands falling limply to his side.   
The boy shines on the ice.

Jimin watches with his mouth hanging open. The boy moves skates backwards, his eyes scrunched in concentration, before he launches himself in the air. Jimin gasps, watching how the boy twirls around mid flight, a perfect picture of grace and beauty. He can’t help but think about how he looks almost like a little ice fairy, he looks like he’s flying.

The applause is deafening and Jimin barely registers how his father lowers the volume of the TV set. But he’s still paralysed to the spot, watching the boy land with a spark from his blades, before he skates towards the booth outside the rink.

The commentator drones on in the background, as the boy walks into the booth with a middle aged man, probably his coach. There are several cameras flashing, and bouquets twice his size being handed to him. Jimin watches in awe, a tingling sensation creeping up his chest.

Through the entire act and even now as he gave his interview, the boy was smiling. A soft, innocent smile that spread across the expanse of his chuff face. White as the ice beneath his blades, and shaped like a heart.

To this day, Jimin still remembers the exact moment he found his purpose in life.

The moment the commentator drawled out, “That was Jung Hoseok from South Korea. His score is 95.6. He is currently in first place.”

With that, the boy- Hoseok’s face lit up in the biggest smile he’d given all night. Jimin’s heart thudded violently against his ribcage. 

He wants to be able to smile like that.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“It’s difficult. It’s insanely difficult! How the fuck did you pick all this up in one year, Jiminie?”

Jimin’s best friend, Taehyung skates- waddles- towards the stand. Jimin grins and follows him. He pats his back when Taehyung bends down to remove his skates.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Jimin chuckles. He smiles softly.

He wants to say that he’s not that great. He has miles to go. There are so many people who are significantly better than him. More talented. More hard-working.

He wants to tell him that he’s still nowhere near as good as Jung Hoseok.

But he doesn’t. He skates backwards, cheeky grin plastered on his face, beckoning Taehyung with his fingers to keep his eyes open and watch him carefully.

Jimin hums softly closing his eyes and imagining the song for his routine. He slowly moves forward, blades gliding over the ice. He opens his eyes before he turns around and tilts to his side. He leans against the outer edge of his left blade, applying pressure on his other toe and launching into a lutz. His heart squeezes in a sudden bolt of apprehension, gone as quick as it comes. As quick and Jimin loses balance and falls on to the ice. He curses under his breath, hearing Taehyung’s concerning voice calling out to him.

He curses softly, rubbing his shin and wincing. How long will it take him to perfect the lutz, he wonders. He’d been practicing it for more than a month. Although he’s made sufficient progress (now, he was finally able to lift off properly and even had a spin), he knows that he has a long way to go.

His mind suddenly plays the scene of his ideal lutz. A slim man lifting off with a spark from his blade, before he twirls in the air and lands on the other blade. And through it all, a face-splitting grin appears in the back of his mind, heart-shaped and absolutely radiant. 

Jung Hoseok.

Jimin’s ideal lutz- his ideal lift, spin, and landing.

Jung Hoseok.

His ideal skater.

His idol.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t make it.

He didn’t make it to the Junior Figure Skating Championship. He groans out loud,punching the wall in his frustration. He wants to cry. He’d worked so hard.

He remembers the past two years, how he’d dived head first into the world of figure skating, after falling in love with the way Jung Hoseok danced on the ice. The way he smiled. The way he seemed so lost in his passion and joy. He’d made a decision that fateful night. He wanted to experience the same exhilaration. He wanted to be a figure skater.

He wanted to be like Jung Hoseok.

He’s worked so hard.

So so hard.

Pushing himself to the limit every single day. His instructor, though impressed by his dedication and his dancer’s grace, had been concerned he was pushing himself too hard.

He was. He’d self destructed in the middle of his first Figure Skating Regionals, blacking out in the middle of his performance, due to his fatigue. The following week, he’d spent in hospital, pondering about his life choices and about his obsession to get better. His obsession to go to the Grand Prix.

His obsession with Hoseok, who’d won the previous Gran Prix, his very first, at the age of eighteen, setting a world record.

How can Jimin stand on the same rink as Hoseok amongst the top skaters in the world, if he cannot even win the Busan Figure Skating Regionals.

That night he lays in his bathtub and burns his runner up certificate, before crying his eyes out.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Park Jimin from South Korea, skating to The Nutcracker. This is his first Grand Prix, and he’s the second Korean to enter the finals this year, along with three year Gran Prix Champion and favourite of the season, Jung Hoseok. This is also the first time there are two contestants of the same nationality in the finals; although Jung Hoseok represents his home country, Canada.”

Jimin breathes deeply, thumping his chest and forcing down the nerves. He feels much too hot in his skating outfit, a gold embroidered black tuxedo with diamonds studded along the front. His hair is a dark shade of silver, and he looks very much like a prince in a dark fantasy.

He sighs as he steps onto the rink, blades clinking against the hard ice. He can do this. He’s come along way since he’d first stepped foot on ice four years ago. He was finally here. At his first Grand Prix, representing South Korea.

He was here.

On the same arena as Jung Hoseok.

He steps onto the ice, taking a deep breath and waiting for the music to begin. Cannon, one of his favourite songs. He slowly moves across the ice, gliding to the music, straining every muscle to move fluidly along with the tune. The song is soothing and serene, as are Jimin’s polished movements. Every push of his blades against the ice deliberate and practiced.

He moves towards the centre of the rink and spins, bending low, rising up. He wants to deliver a performance that his audience will never forget. He wants to be etched in their retinas for the foreseeable future.

He wants the man with flaming red hair and honey tanned skin, who waits outside the rink, to notice him.

He wants Jung Hoseok to remember him.

He bends his body, before he slowly raises his torso, hands flinging out behind him as he glides back against the ice, He presses the blade of his skate against the ice and lifts off. He keeps his eyes focused on the ground, calculating his angle, his landing time. He spins elegantly before he lands on his other foot.   
“A perfect triple lutz!”

The commentator announces, even as the audience goes ballistic. The judges note down his move, shaking their heads in approval.

But Jimin doesn’t care about any of that. As he goes through the rest of his programme, he sneaks glances of the red headed man on the sidelines, taking off his jacket and warming up to go next. Hoseok occasionally looks at him and parts his mouth, nodding softly in appreciation. Jimin’s heart warms up every time, swelling impossibly in his chest and feeling far too warm in his cold environment.

When he finishes his performance and goes back to a standing ovation, he looks up to see Jung Hoseok get ready to start his performance.

He feels everything around him blur, everything except for the man in front of him. Flaming red hair, crimson silk shirt. Hoseok clinks his blade on the ice and looks up into Jimin’s eyes and immediately smiles. It’s wide and genuine and so fucking pretty, Jimin feels the wind knocked out of him. He takes it all in, the sudden realisation that he was mere metres away from Jung Hoseok seeping into his pores.

“You were amazing,” Hoseok says, reaching over to pat him on the back. Jimin barely manages to mutter out a thank you, before they announce that it’s Hoseok’s turn on the ice.

Hoseok moves on to the rink, his smile still remaining plastered onto his face.

Jimin turns around once he’s off the ice. He faces Hoseok’s slim back, the light from the cameras being eclipsed by his presence and creating an ethereal view of the skater. Jimin’s eyes latch on like a leach onto Hoseok’s silhouette as he moves on the ice.

Beautiful.

Fucking beautiful.

He’d only ever watched Hoseok on a thirty inch television screen, seeing him skate in person made his knees wobble. He’s a revelation- a vision to behold.

Jimin has noticed this even from what he’s seen of Hoseok’s performances on the small screen. Hoseok skates with abandon. While Jimin calculates his every move and is the puppeteer that holds the strings of his own body, Hoseok is a glaring contradiction. 

He is no one’s puppet.

Even the music seems to flow to his movements, as if his body is the instrument and his skating blades draw out the music.

Jimin feels his eyes well up. He chuckles wetly. It’s insane how beautiful Hoseok is on ice, spinning and jumping. Every jump flawless. It irks Jimin to no end how Hoseok can make something as simple as a toe loop look so complex and elaborate; but at the same time, he effortlessly executes consecutive axels as if they’re a piece of cake.

Jimin’s eyes refuse to leave Hoseok, as he nears the end of his programme. Hoseok, who shines red with his red hair and red outfit. Like a scorching flame that melts the ice beneath his agile feet.

Jimin watches with awe and envy as Hoseok burns the ice, choosing to ignore how the spot where Hoseok had patted his back was burning just as much.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ \------------------------ _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s his third Grand Prix.

It’s his third Grand Prix where he’s made it to the podium, standing on the second step.

Below Jung Hoseok.

He sighs under the flashing lights. The buzz of the media ringing through his ears.

From the corner of his eyes, Jimin glances up at Hoseok. His heart tightens as if by clockwork and he curses as he tries to prevent that familiar ache in his chest from blooming. Hoseok is still as beautiful as he always was. Golden skin shining under the flashing white lights.

Hoseok stands a step above him. Jimin feels something uncomfortable coil in his stomach as he looks up. Hoseok stands tall, his slim frame taut with confidence and the glow that comes from winning. Jimin feels the coil of envy in his stomach, the ache of the vitriol that boils and bubbles.

“Jung Hoseokssi, how do you feel being the winner of the Grand Prix for the sixth consecutive year? You’ve broken all records, do you have anything to say to the figure skating community?”

Jimin strains his head to look up. Hoseok is smiling, it’s light and doesn’t split through his face like his usual heart-shaped smile. But this smile is equally as bewitching, equally as genuine, and Jimin has to force himself not to stare too long at the tiny dimples that adorn the corner of his mouth.

“It’s such an honour. I feel so humbled. I can’t believe this is happening to me. But at the end of the day, all that matters is that I skate because I love it so much. I want to do it forever.”

Jimin tunes out at this, looking down and focusing on his leather loafers, imagining a vision of skates overlapping with them.

_ I skate because I love it so much. _

Jimin wonders why he skates. Sure, he enjoys it- loves it even.

But the dark twisted truth that he’s tried so hard to bury down in the deep confines of his icy heart is that-

Jimin skates because of Hoseok.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ \------------------------ _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jimin walks towards his coach’s office. He zips up his jacket and shivers. It was cold even outside of the skating rink, the cold winter breeze making him shiver slightly. He whistles lightly as he opens the door and walks in.

“Hey, coach. What’s up? You said there’s something important you want to discuss?”

Jimin’s coach turns around in his seat. Bang Sihyuk has a blank expression on his face.

“Yeah, Jiminah. I got something to tell you. Frankly, I don’t know if it’s good news or bad news; I’m in a bit of a shock myself.”

Jimin seats himself opposite his coach.

“What’s up, coach? You’re scaring me a bit?”

Bang closes his eyes, folding his hands and letting out a deep breath. He blinks his eyes open and focuses his unnerving gaze on Jimin.

“What’s your goal, Jimin? What’s your ultimate goal in this world of ice and blades?”

Jimin’s breath stutters as he tries to figure out what his coach was trying to get at.

What’s his goal?

When he’d first started out, his goal was to find something he enjoyed. To find something he was passionate about.

To find something that made him smile the way Hoseok smiled when he skated on the ice.

Somewhere along the way, this goal evolved into something more materialistic, something more ambitious.

He wanted to become better and better. He wanted to skate free as a bird, but also as controlled as a machine.

He wanted to make Hoseok see him as a contender, as a possible threat to his ice throne.

He wanted to stand above Hoseok on the winners’ podium and look down at him.

He wanted to defeat Jung Hoseok and snatch his title.

“I want to win the next Grand Prix.”

It’s an understatement, but it’s the absolute truth. Jimin smiles longingly as he slouches against his seat. “I want to win.”

Bang smiles, his chubby cheeks pushing out as his mouth curls upwards in contentment. 

“I’m glad. Jimin, I-”

Someone chooses that moment to knock against the door. Bang’s eyes grow wide as he mumbles a cure.

“Shit, he’s early. How is he early? Sportsmen are supposed to be athletically late!”

He curses once again before slumping back in resignation. “Screw it,” he whispers, before yelling, “Yeah, come in, the door’s open!”

The metallic door squeaks open, dragging against the concrete flooring, making Jimin turn around to advise the newcomer to be more tactful.

Jimin opens his mouth only to have it dry up and hang open.

In front of him is the focal point of all his dreams and desires. The human axis around which his entire life and being revolves. His muse, his downfall.

“Park Jimin, say hello to your new coach.”

The man who stars in all his dreams, his nightmares, his wet fantasies.

“Jung Hoseok.”

The only man who melts the ice around Jimin’s heart. 

_ **End of Blue Mold** _

_ **Chapter 1** _

**Author's Note:**

> Do comment and tell me what you think  
And do leave kudos if you enjoyed this  
I'm on Twitter as [@AiSeeHope](https://twitter.com/AiSeeHope)  
You can also talk to me on my [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/AiSeeHope)  



End file.
